


Engagements: Royal and Prior

by Redribbonhood



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Red Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redribbonhood/pseuds/Redribbonhood
Summary: A month or so after Adamant, the Champion of Kirkwall returns just in time for Starkhaven's annual ball. She's been away aiding the Inquisition, and the crowned Prince has missed her terribly. He has something to ask her.





	Engagements: Royal and Prior

**“Tell me, Lady Hawke. How does a humble third son go about asking the Champion of Kirkwall and Arcane Advisor of Starkhaven for a dance?”**

Dark grey eyes moved from people-watching in the crowded ballroom to just the one person before them. The man was tall, unfairly handsome, and dressed in an impeccably white and gold-lined suit which the woman being questioned was sure blood stains could never be removed from. She looked unimpressed.

 **“He doesn’t.”** the Champion replied aloofly. She slipped her maroon fan into the inner pocket of her gown’s sleeve and stood upright. In her heels she was just over 6 foot and the tall beauty appeared to easily be the most formidable presence in the room. But if the gentleman was intimidated at all, his charming smile and brilliant aquamarine gaze betrayed no signs of it. Said smile widened slightly as she continued. **“He waits for _her_ to ask him.”**

 **“Of course.”** he answered softly, bowing at the waist while holding eye contact. **“Forgive me. Others may have been inclined to wait and be asked, but certainly not you.”**

Henley Hawke brushed a stray lock of hair over her shoulder. It had grown out since Kirkwall, down nearly to her lower back, but was the same dark, rich burgundy it had always been since she’d first started dying it with magic. She left the Prince waiting perhaps a few moments longer than polite before offering him her hand.

 **“You may dance with me.”** she permitted. And, gently taking her hand and waist, he did; the rest of the evening, all the dances left, all for her. And after turning down every other dance offered to her that night, by banns and barons and comtes, the Red Lady of Kirkwall had finally accepted a partner. The gossip was on everyone’s lips.

And it nearly crescendoed to an uproar at the end of one song when Prince Sebastian Vael lowered himself to one knee. A cacophony of gasps and exclamations, expressing a variety of emotions and sentiment, rung out- and then silence. Absolute silence as he took out the ring.

No one heard exactly what the prince said to her, his words seemed purposed for her alone, and the exchange- though public-unfolded in such a covert manner that few in the years to come would be able to recall exactly how it happened. Not much was clear, only that the woman’s cheeks tinted the faintest of reds and she responded back equally quiet and with seeming nonchalance, maybe even disdain. But the wide smile that broke out on Sebastian Vael’s face at her answer was all the proof the audience of nobles needed to confirm she had accepted him.

There was applause and cheers and, of course, frenzied gossip.

Later, whilst accepting congratulations and occasionally barely disguised shade from their guests, a small incident occurred. An Orlesian Marquise had been bold enough to place a hand on the Prince’s arm and lean in close to whisper from behind her mask. She was not much older than him, and also unmarried, as she had mentioned to him several times earlier that evening. She then made the grave mistake of suggesting that _perhaps_ a marriage to a known blood mage would not be the best idea for a man in his position.

If looks could kill, the source of this suggestion would not have made it out the ballroom, such was the murderous intent in said blood mage’s eyes. But before his new fiance could cause a red mess with the knife he knew she had hidden up her dress’ other sleeve, Sebastian reacted for her. He smiled tensely at the Marquis, his expression unchanged, but his eyes somehow colder.

 **“I thank you, madame, for your concern.”** he replied, removing her hand from his arm and taking one of Henley’s in his own. He maintained eye contact with the noblewoman as he brought Hawke’s pale hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. **“But I must dismiss that notion as I have been lucky enough to just become engaged to the only desirable woman in this room.”**

Color and indignant fury rose in the Marquise’s face before she stormed off, leaving the couple and the surrounding well-wishers barely able to suppress their laughter.

 **"That was awfully mean.“** Henley commented later, once they’d resumed their dancing. It was a slow waltz and they moved gracefully through it without much thought at all; they’d had plenty of practice together the past couple years. Though her eyes still looked ever-displeased, the slight smile on her lips indicated otherwise. To others, she may look arrogant, prideful at best. But he knew her subtleness well enough to see she was not only content but very pleased.  **"I'm surprised at you."**

 **“Aye. I think you might be rubbing off on me, my dear.”** Sebastian replied warmly, still beaming. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling once since she’d said the Henley-equivalent to “yes”.  The actual words were more along the lines of “It’s about time.” and “I can’t believe I had to almost die the Fade for you to propose.” and “Why didn’t you warn me you were doing this tonight? I would have worn my white and gold dress.”, but it was all the same to him.

 **“Maybe. But being mean is my thing. So not only were you cruel to her, you were _also_ stealing from me.”** the mock anger in her voice nearly had the prince chuckling again. She poked a finger into his chest.  **“I’m telling the Maker.”**

 **“I think he’ll forgive me.”** came the easy reply. But his expression softened and, before the song ended, he pulled her out to an empty balcony. Once they were alone, Sebastian held her close, knowing she’d allow it if only because it was cold outside and he her only source of warmth. He pulled back just enough to see the details of her face in the moonlight, his calloused but warm hand holding her cheek dearly.

 **“But I would never have forgiven myself had I lost you.”**  his words were whispered, painfully sincere, and it was as much a confession to the Maker as it was to her. **“Varric’s letter… he said you could have been left behind just as easily as that Grey Warden-**

Hawke made an indignant sound that the Maker probably wouldn’t have, dismissive of all the sentimentality and contemptuous at the very notion.

 **“You know Varric likes to be dramatic. I wasn’t in any danger.”**  she snapped, glaring. Despite her supposed disgust, she still took his vacant hand and raised it to her other cheek so that they would be equally warm. **“You know I would never risk my life for someone else’s.”**

Starkhaven’s prince couldn’t help but laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was true, and he’d never been gladder for it; his love’s self-preservation had always been very strong. Selfish, some might call it- but not him. Not if it meant he could still be holding her like this. He thought back to a time not long ago when the idea of ruling Starkhaven had made his throat tighten in terror. But with her at his side, he feared nothing. He was at peace. And when she was not...

Sebastian sighed as he embraced her again. He had spent the last couple of weeks praying for forgiveness; forgiveness for letting other people’s doubts and judgements keep him from proposing sooner. Surely, he’d reasoned in anxious anguish those long nights she had been gone, not even Varric would have been able to convince her to go had she been happily married already. And now they would soon be wed, and she would never again leave to face dangers without him.

Wait.

He tensed, suddenly remembering something she’d mentioned almost a month ago after returning from Skyhold. **“Er.. Hawke?”**

 **“What?”**  she responded sharply, face still buried in his shoulder, the irritation in her voice sounding genuine now.

**“Dear... didn’t you mention something about having to go somewhere?”**

She pulled back and at her frustrated and confused expression, Sebastian quickly searched his memory for the answers.

 **“Somewhere in the Anderfells?”** he suggested, as it came back to him vaguely. “ **You said the Inquisitor asked you to check on the Grey Wardens? In Weisshupt...? Varric said it was urgent?”**

A pause. Then:

**“Oh. Shit.”**

Hawke knew she’d been forgetting something.

  


**Author's Note:**

> First time writing about one of my OC's since "Stay With Me" (Surana x Sten). It feels odd, but in a good way.


End file.
